Dreamboatshield
by Pearl Primrose
Summary: Trixie Oakenstruck, Mary-Sue from earth, goes on the quest to win the heart of a certain dreamboatshield, but will she be able to conquer King Under the Mountain's heart with a certain hobbit in the way? Crazy spin on girl falls in Middle-earth story and Thorin/OC pairings. Warning: this is not meant to offend. Inspired by Thorin Oakenshield's Majestic Diary by Fruitsie. Parody.
1. Trixie

_**Author's Note: **_This is a satire of all the common tropes in Thorin/OCs and just plain old OCs falling in Middle-earth, and going on the quest. This is in no way meant to offend anyone, but is meant as a joke. I'm hoping to encourage writers to think outside the box more. You see, tropes are commonly used because they're the most convenient and immediate thoughts when imagining an OC on the quest to Erebor. For example, why do all the romantic moments have to take place in Rivendell, Laketown, and Beorn's? Because those places are most sensible and convenient. So hopefully this fic will encourage young writers to be more creative. And in this story, I will be breaking the fourth wall: as in the company is aware of fanfiction and tropes.

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own any dwarves, hobbits, wizards, or elves, even though it'd be awesome I own nothing. Everything belongs to Tolkien and Peter Jackson.

_**Chapter One: Trixie **_

King Under the Mountain at your service, bitch. At least that was what I felt like saying as soon as Gandalf opened the door. I saw him staring at me with that innocent look, like he hadn't made me travel to the fucking Shire to meet a fucking hobbit. Damn him. Really, a hobbit? He wanted to _bring _a hobbit on the quest? Wasn't it bad enough I had to bring Nori on the quest? I wasn't sure how Dwalin, Balin, Fili, and Kili felt about it, but I felt weird when I thought about the upcoming nights, sleeping less than two-feet away from a criminal on the run. Note to self: sleep with one eye open.

"Gandalf," I said in my super-sexy voice that made young girls write so many fanfictions about me. Couldn't blame them. My family might've been a bunch of screw-ups, but we did have great genes that gave us sexy looks. Must ignore the temptation to flip my hair over my shoulder, while pretending not to wink at―at―

Oh. My. Mahal just struck me down.

I noticed the hobbit as I walked in, those cute green eyes, dainty little hands, and coppery, curly hair. No wonder why BagginShield was such a hit in the fandom. Bilbo got my libido go― nope, must undo these impure thoughts. Remember, I _am _supposed to not know who Bilbo is.

I folded my arms, acting like asshole of the year. You know, I had to remind all these dwarves, hobbit, and wizard, who was King Under the Mountain.

"So this is the hobbit," I spoke in my infamous pantydropper voice. The whores in the taverns loved it when I called them, "Dirty little cock-sluts." I wondered if the hobbit would like it. Must stop trying to seduce the hobbit after 2.0 seconds of knowing him. That will come off out of character.

"Thorin Oakenshield, meet Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf said, discreetly winking at me. He wished this were a BagginShield fic, too. If even Gandalf wanted BagginShield, then this love interest must be terrible.

And then if things couldn't get any worse, I noticed _her_, the twenty-something year-old woman who's supposed to be my true love. She was standing by Kili like every other OC, trying to be best friends with the Durins. She had no personality like the rest. Well, when I was forced to shove my tongue down her throat, I guess I would imagine Bilbo to get me through the painful nights―nope, stop thinking of the hobbit that way.

Gandalf noticed me "checking out" the woman.

He cleared his throat dramatically, preparing for the speech he'd given a million times in other fics. "Thorin Oakenshield, meet Trixie Oakenstruck." Well, Oakenstruck was a _first_. She looked at me with her big, dumb brown eyes. Trixie put her hands on her hips stubbornly, puffing out her chest. She was tiny―you know like every other OC―like one of those "wind can blow them away" types. Not that I haven't seen _that _done in every Thorin/OC fic.

"A woman?" I declared in all my majesty swag. It was time to look like a sexist pig.

"Yes, a woman," Gandalf snapped, looking seconds away from rolling his eyes. "She is here to change things on the quest, from another world."

"Will she be like the other women who were supposed to change the quest but did nothing?" Kili blurted. Usually, when I saw Kili, I wanted to cry because he was _my _nephew. But right now, I was so proud I could kiss him. Yes, King Under the Mountain did get wishy-washy sometimes.

"It is my greatest hope that Trixie Oakenstruck will be different," Gandalf started dramatically. "She is part dwarf, part hobbit, part the race of Men, and part elf, raised in another world by 'foster' parents because her father is―"

Dramatic pause.

I tried my hardest to look taut in anticipation, but all I could think about was how I had a bad bout of oncoming diarrhea. Now I had to use a _hobbit _bathroom. Great. That was certainly going to be an unexpected journey.

"Azog," Trixie finished for Gandalf, nearing me. She stood two inches shorter, her "beautiful" raven black hair cascading over her shoulders. All that description was artsy-fartsy. She wished she had _my_ bountiful, bouncy, healthy hair. I wondered if the author, Pearl Primrose, would delete it. Waiting. Seconds later. Nope, she's intent on putting me through hell. Have I not been through enough hell, you know with the Dragon burning my kingdom down, me―the majestic one―having to do manual labor in villages of Men, and me _having_ to raise two dumbass heirs? Suicide never looked so becoming.

"Azog?" I said, completely outraged. Isn't her elvish blood bad enough? Let me guess, she's also somehow related to Thranduil. I hate that bastard. Could not wait for the opportunity to shove my sword up Thranduil's―

"Do you have a problem with it?" Trixie spoke heatedly, glaring daggers at me. Oh. Now I get it. For a moment, I thought she was going to fall under the Mary-Sue type, but nope, here we have "Thorin's clone" trope. I wanted to bash Dain's face in, kill Thranduil, and strangle Fili and Kili for being stupid, so why would King Under the Mountain put up with a disrespectful―

"Thorin, be gracious," Gandalf chastised.

I gave my best "cold" expression, leering from Trixie to Gandalf.

"You know, I don't want to be here!" Trixie cried. I wanted to say, "You know, no one else wants you here," but I had to stick to the fic.

"She's a fiery one." Fili nodded. "Uncle should take careful heed." Yeah, because Fili would really side with a random bitch over his own uncle. 'Sides, I wasn't just any uncle, I was King Under the Mountain.

"It is all right, lass, we will make sure you are well-fed and taken care of," Balin said all too kindly, wrapping an arm around Trixie, leading her to the kitchen table.

I noticed something weird as I marched to the kitchen, determined to look emotionless and untouchable. People liked to give me Snape swag. I didn't even get to deliver my line to Bilbo: "You look more like a grocer than burglar." I really wished this was a BagginShield fic.

* * *

I was seriously contemplating disowning Fili after he said, "If there is a key, there must be a door." If it wasn't for Dis telling me she'd break my neck like a chicken, and then take the throne of Erebor for herself, maybe I would. The entire company already liked Trixie for some reason. They liked her telling me off. She'd shouted with Clary Fray swag, "Shut up, Thorin! I don't like you, Thorin! I wanna go home! I hate you! You're not _my _King!" Ugh, bitch, where do you think you landed? Narnia? Yep, I was a King and once we got to Erebor, I was planning to have you executed, and then run away happily ever with―with―must control thoughts of a particular hobbit.

Balin sat in front of me, as I longingly gazed after the hobbit. Yum, his rump was so―

"It appears we have lost our burglar," Balin spoke dejectedly. If Pearl Primrose kept using the dialogue from the movie, readers were going to get bored, and miss my swajesty.

We kept talking, me getting emotional when Balin said I had brought my dwarves a life of peace and plenty. I desperately tried to convey my emotions. Hey, but even big bad Thorin Oakenshield could have his heartstrings pulled. Down the hall, I saw Trixie stop and gawk at me. I didn't blame her, my hair was looking extra fabulous today. I was resisting the urge to do a hair flip yet again. It was hard being blessed with these great looks. Every woman, girl, man, and boy wanted to get naked with me. Old people, too. Elves, dwarves, hobbits―hopefully a certain hobbit―it didn't matter. Everyone wanted to get naked with Thorin Oakenshield.

Trixie hissed like some wild animal, licking her bottom lip. I noticed she had hints of a beard from her "dwarf" heritage, hobbit feet, elf ears, and was built like the race of Men. I didn't think an author could create a bigger travesty than those other OCs, but I guess miracles were possible.

She gave me the middle finger, which somehow translated to "come hither" Thorin. I resisted those "feelings" Pearl Primrose wanted me to have, puffing out my chest.

Balin shook his head. "Oakenstruck, now could that be a coincidence?"

No shit, Balin. Bitches be wanting my last name.

Minutes later, after being in the hobbit's bathroom to _not _sniff his towels and inhale his scent like some weird pervert, I was by the fireplace, ready to make all these grown men cry with my sexy voice. I smoked my pipe weed. Damn, this shit was good. No wonder why Gandalf was always puffing on his pipe. I should've never let Fili and Kili start smoking when they were forty. I think that explained some things―like why Kili was slow and why my nephews were always quick to befriend every OC.

I started singing "Misty Mountains Cold." I swore my voice could put a stop to every war and every orc's need to kill, rape, and be a freak. I was _that _good. Maybe if I had sung to Azog, we could have been best buds, killing the people who were nothing but diseases and taking over Middle-earth one kingdom at a time―those Rohirrims pissed me off. You know, if Azog hadn't killed _my_ grandfather. Should've castrated him.

Trixie was sitting close to Kili and Fili, giggling like some Balrog meets Gandalf without his pipe weed for a week. Withdrawals with that wizard were brutal. Seriously contemplating stabbing Pearl Primrose here.

And then like a _Harry Potter_ spell―cue my magic harp playing and violins―Trixie smiled at me. Oh, no. Not again. Fuck. Shit. She looked like a jack-o-lantern or an orc, or a jack-o-lantern that was supposed to be an orc. Actually, I'd rather battle Azog again than deal with this. Please. Anything else Pearl Primrose? Even Durincest was looking better than Trixie Oakenstruck. So going to cry my eyes out tonight while dreaming about my―nope. Thorin Oakenshield did _not _have a thing for hobbits. This chapter had better get fifty reviews or my swajesty is going somewhere else―like Bilbo's―gah, stop thinking of that cute hobbit.

_**Author's Note: **_So since I just finished my fourth manuscript, taking a break so I can have some "fresh eyes" on my baby, I probably will be able to finish this fic soon. Again, I will say, this is not meant to offend anyone. It is meant to be funny and to encourage writers to see beyond tropes of _The Hobbit _fandom. I know this is random, but since I'm an avid YA reader and have been discovering all kinds of songs lately, I thought it'd be cool to share the love. I might do this for every chapter if you peeps don't mind. So *dramatic pause* I recommend _Insignia _by S.J. Kincaid. It's a science fiction book pitched as _Harry Potter _meets _Ender's Game_. It is the perfect example of executing voice while writing third-person. The characterization is awesome, too. Now for song, I'm going with "Heroes" by David Bowie. I can't believe it took me forever to discover it, but luckily I did I think Thorin would like "Heroes."

And before I forget, please review comments, questions, input, and everything is welcomed. No, this chapter doesn't need fifty reviews, that was just Thorin using his swajesty. Swajesty equals majestic swag if any readers are like, "WTF is Pearl Primrose talking about?"


	2. Rule Number One

_**Author's Note: **_Thanks for the reviews and follows everyone. Much love for it. I am going to use another word that might confuse people called Dwobbish. Dwobbish is half dwarf, hobbit, and elvish. Yes, this word is influenced by the infamous summaries: "Dwobbits! M-preg!"

_**Chapter Two: Rule Number One**_

Apparently, fives reviews was enough for me to continue with my swajesty. I swore Pearl Primrose needed more standards.

I was on my pony, enjoying the greenery all around us, the leaves slightly swaying in my majestic presence. For a second, I forgot the sticky predicament I was in, as I took in the sight. And then Dwalin moved beside me on his pony, blocking my vision. 'Course, Dwalin was such a _mood _killer. All those times he had tried to put the moves on Dis, he'd kill the mood by talking about how many orcs he'd slaughtered that day, yesterday, or last week. Damn, Dwalin, sometimes you made _me_―swajesty extraordinaire―look like a care bear.

"Do you believe the hobbit will show?" Dwalin asked discreetly. Why was he being discreet? Oh, no. Did _he _know about my secret fantasies involving Mr. Bag―

"Of course not," I snapped.

Dwalin glared. "There is no need to speak that way to me." Did he just get snippy with muah? Really, Dwalin? I was King Under the Mountain. I could talk to whomever I wanted, however I wanted. I was about to retort with, "I'm going to tell Balin," when I heard her behind us. _She_―the travesty―was behind us on her pony.

"I know what you're thinking, Thorin," Trixie blurted, lips quivering for some reason. All right, try me. I dared Trixie to know what I was thinking. Pretty much the entire fandom never knew what I was thinking, including all my OC love interests. Apparently, I was passive enough to accept bitches screaming at me, but aggressive enough to bruise them when I got mad and squeeze their arms like a stone giant. Didn't make sense to muah.

Dwalin growled, "Did you not know eavesdropping is rude? Leave us." Dwalin was officially back on team Thorin. Couldn't blame him. My bros could never stay mad at me for long. Five minutes was the record, held by Balin after I punched Dwalin in the nose that one time we got roaring drunk in some tavern. We started a bar fight. Yep, good times.

"Ugh, who are you?" Trixie rolled her eyes. "Nobody, _duh_."

Suddenly, the entire company stopped to stand stark still. It was so quiet; I could only hear the wind whistling, and Kili breathing heavily in anticipation like some puppy who'd peed on itself in excitement. Trixie had just broken the almighty Dreamboatshield Code, the rules to winning Thorin Oakenshield's heart. Rule number one: must win over the approval of Thorin's family and close friends. It wasn't like I had an abysmal amount of family and friends, either. I wondered how almost every OC broke the rule. Hello, the majority of my family was dead, and I had only two to three friends. When you had as much swajesty as me, you had to keep a tightknit circle. Never knew who was going to be jealous of me this time. Having hair like mine caused an uproar of jealousy in Dwarven clans everywhere.

Painfully, Fili mouthed to me inconspicuously, "Pearl Primrose is making us say―"

Kili finished for him monotonously, "I have never seen someone stand up to Uncle or Dwalin. How impressive." He let out a loud, irritable breath, blowing strands of hair out his face. This fic was going down the "Durin brothers want the OC" route. Was it not bad enough _I _had to suffer? Now my nephews did, too.

Nori snickered, not caring to muffle his laughter. Who are you laughing at? Damn criminal. Tonight, I'm going to show you why _I _was the one to kill Azog the Defiler―

"Is this the part where I start despising her?" Dwalin asked me, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

I nodded ruefully. Shit.

Dwalin turned toward Trixie. "You insult me because you _wish _you were as close to Thorin as I am. We have fought wars together, lass. Do not even try to compete." Oh, snap, you go, Dwalin, bringing up the real issues. That was why so many Thorin/OC lovers hated on BagginShield, they were always jealous of the hug at the end of the first movie. I guess they couldn't stand me and Dwalin's bromance, either. Maybe if there were more of me to go around, then we wouldn't be having these issues. I'm quite the physical specimen, you know.

Arrogantly, Trixie flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Bitch, I'm good, I'm Dwobbish." No comment.

She galloped away from us, going to stand by Fili and Kili of course. They rolled their eyes, while Bofur chuckled. Fuck Bofur and his stupid hat.

I continued to lead the group ahead, keeping my true self at bay, the person who would have banished Trixie from the group right away for disrespecting Dwalin. Did I, King Under the Mountain, really come off as "understanding of other cultures" and "sympathetic to bitches?" Hell no. How did people miss the big glaring signs that I was judgmental?

Bofur started riding next to Trixie, talking gibberish, "You know, lass, Thorin is not half bad."

"Eww! I hate him!" Trixie squealed, sticking her tongue out like those annoying Dwarflings I wanted to backhand. Some people were lucky I was a King and had standards to withheld, because if I wasn't―

"WAIT! WAIT!"

Durin's beard, could that be―

Mr. Baggins awkwardly waved his arms about, running for us with the contract in hand. My heart was pounding. I was _not _distressed over the fact that Mr. Baggins had refused to come. Must try to disguise my glistening eyes and the urge to smile as though I'd just seen Thranduil eaten by wargs. The corners of my lips were _this _close to pulling up. All right, it was time to be a fun sucker and ruin everyone's honky dory time. The company looked too excited. I didn't like that smile on Ori's face. Or on Balin's face as he examined Mr. Baggins's contract. And―Mahal―was Dwalin nearly smiling? Could he see how great this hobbit was, too? Nope. I didn't think that. Note to self: bite down on your coat tonight to get the hobbit out of your mind.

"Get him a pony," I said deliberately, loving the feel of reminding everybody that we were on a fucking quest, to take back _my _kingdom, and to slay that atrocity, Smaug. It didn't hurt I was going to be richer than Thranduil, either.

Bilbo―I mean Mr. Baggins since first names were _too_ personal for muah to use―started ranting on about how he had some hobbit walk-a-thon, and how he would be fine on his feet. The hobbit's naivety was kind of endearing. Bleh. Stop it, Thorin.

Kili and Fili left the travesty's side, leading both of their ponies next to the hobbit. They scooped him up, lifting him on a pony. Mr. Baggins seemed completely out of his element, his cute nose scrunching up as he awkwardly held onto the reins at a safe distance.

Gandalf, with that naughty twinkle in his eye, collected his money for the "bet." Hmm. Interesting, wizard. You see that us, dwarves, have nothing, and are willing to take whatever money you could get in a moment's notice. Well, if I thought Gandalf was a man of respect and blah, blah, blah, then _I_ was wrong. He was taking from a bunch of homeless dwarves. The _nerve_.

As we rode out, I heard Gloin talking gibberish―you know, since if yours truly wasn't speaking, then it was gibberish―from the back of the company.

"Aye, the lass will be nothing but trouble." Maybe it wasn't gibberish.

"She has a strong heart!" Ori exclaimed. Man, Ori, when were you ever going to grow a pair and stand up to the big bad bitch, Pearl Primrose, and tell her you weren't going to follow her "instructions" to defend the travesty?

Dori rolled his eyes.

Trixie whined, "Ugh, I _saw _you roll your eyes."

"That was the point." Sass attack from Dori. GTFO, OC. Waiting to see if Pearl Primrose deletes the futuristic slang. Nope. What a bitch. At this rate, she might compete with Dreamboatshield's Legendary List of Most Hated: Thranduil, Smaug, the Kraken―that monster stole _my _personality, my "Thorin's clone" love interests, all elves, and Nori―don't ask, I just _despise _secretive people since I was the only one who had any right to keep secrets.

"OMG, you are _not _one of the attractive dwarves so you don't matter!" Trixie squealed. Say what? Did Trixie ever look in a mirror? Snort.

Nori glared defiantly at Trixie for a few fleeting seconds before composing himself once again. I didn't like that look. Thranduil gave me that look before he turned his back on my burning kingdom. Damn tree shagger.

Since this was out of character, Ori merely blinked, completely silent. I mean, if we were keeping it canon, I was positive Ori and Nori probably would have knocked that ho―

"Dori, be nice," Ori murmured. Shit. Why the fuck did nobody understand the Ri brothers were the closest siblings? Everybody thought "Kili and Fili" because they're "cute," but let's be realistic. Who was always standing together? I heard crickets chirping in response. All right, I think that settled my theories on _The Hobbit _fandom.

* * *

I had been thinking about my last stash of cheese the entire day. It kept me sane after listening to Trixie talk gibberish: "OMG! I can't live in the Wild! I have to take a bath! I have to stay clean! You guys are _so _disgusting."

Seriously contemplating throttling Trixie with Bombur's braid. I could hang her from a tree from that thing, and break her scrawny neck. It was these happy thoughts that kept me going. Besides my cheese.

We set-up camp near this outcropping of rock, me being "emotionless" and "cold" as I leaned against a rocky wall, keeping a safe distance away from the group. Hmm. Why did people always mistake this for coldness? Hello, it was more like annoyance. Try listening to Bofur laughing like a hyena that smoked too much pipe weed, and tell me _you _wouldn't be ready to throw yourself over the side of a fucking cliff. You know, seriously wishing Dain were here so I could punch him in his big ugly nose. I couldn't believe we were cousins. Obviously, he was a part of the ugly side of the family. I think he was jealous. Always suspected it. Wasn't my fault I was a physical specimen.

I was going through the pockets inside my coat, searching for my cheese. I hadn't touched the damn thing all day. I kept searching, red spots filling my vision. It wasn't here. Where was my fucking cheese? I was going to murder all these dwarves if I didn't find my cheese. And then the answer dawned on me.

Fili and Kili were sitting together, closest to the fire, laughing at _something_. Oh, you think my lost cheese is funny, do you?

"FILI! KILI!" I roared, standing up to my impressive height.

They jumped, Kili scared by the doe-eyed look on his face, and Fili calmly taking my demeanor in.

Right away, they walked toward me, Kili hanging his head low. Damn right, you should be ashamed. One of the rules in the Blue Mountains was to _never _take Thorin Oakenshield's cheese. And I mean never.

"Yes, Uncle," Fili spoke first, staring me straight in the eye.

"WHERE IS MY CHEESE?" I bellowed.

Kili was open-mouthed, shaking his head. "What cheese―"

I interrupted, "DO NOT PLAY GAMES WITH ME! YOU STOLE MY CHEESE, TRYING TO PLAY A 'JOKE' ON ME. I KNOW IT!" I stomped my boot in the ground, Kili jumping back in horror.

Fili sighed calmly, "Uncle, we were not aware you even had cheese."

My nostrils were flaring, body shaking, and temperature rising fast. I was about to go "Kraken" on them. An animalistic growl was torn from my throat as I clenched my fists, but then―

"Thorin."

It was Nori, hands behind his back as he slowly approached us. What business of it was for a low-life criminal to come prancing into Durin family matters?

"What?" I snapped.

"May I have a word with you in private?" No!

"Yes." I nodded curtly, trying to control myself, but all I could imagine was Kili stuffing his fat face full of _my _cheese and Fili laughing, cheering Kili on like they were in some ale drinking contest.

I stormed away from the group, Nori behind me. We stood as far away from the company as we could, the rocky wall behind us.

"Speak," I ordered, tempted to call him a "peasant." My swajesty didn't have the time for this. I needed to find my cheese.

"My King," Nori started reluctantly, eyes flickering toward the group, "I saw something today that will explain your missing cheese." Now this was interesting.

I could hardly control my eagerness as I asked, "What did you see?"

"I saw―" Nori broke off, eyes honing in on Trixie, who was forcing herself between Fili and Kili― "the _lass _steal your cheese. Under other circumstances, I would have thought she only stole because she was starving, but she clearly is not. We are well-stocked in food, which means she was stealing for the―_joy _in it or to be _malicious. _My majesty, I do not want to speak out of term, but I suggest―" Nori took a step closer, whispering― "we _banish _her from the company." Of course, he would be an expert on the different motives and types of thievery.

I clenched my fists tight, resisting the primal urge to strangle Trixie. I leered at her, rage burning through me. Just as I nodded, deciding it was time to "oust" the travesty, I got a memo from upstairs, you know, from Pearl Primrose. Trixie waved at me one second, and then looked like a banshee the next when she did this strange gesture with her arms. She sent one forearm over the crook of her elbow, one arm shooting upwards, while the other shot right. What the hell was that?

"If we were not in a fanfiction, I would _oust_ her this very second," I growled dangerously.

"Of course, my King." Nori bowed. "I will give you much-needed privacy to ponder your decision." He walked away, heading over to Dori and Ori. I saw him sit between his brothers, fleetingly leering at Trixie before his face transformed into neutral territory.

I went to leave my spot as Fili and Kili were attempting to "scare" poor Bilbo, battling my confrontational canon characteristics that Pearl Primrose was moderating. Dwalin suddenly stepped in front of me, suspiciously venturing a glance at Nori. Did he notice the dwarf was creepy, too?

"I saw something fascinating today," Dwalin began cynically, crossing his arms over his chest. "Nori had cheese crumbs on his beard."

I was open-mouthed, feeling as though my hobbit had just told me he―nope, stop thinking of Mr. Baggins's bountiful back―

"He did now, did he?" That piece of vile filth. I would banish him away to live with elves, and show him never to cross King Under the Mountain ever again. Nori could hold Thranduil's manhood while he shagged trees.

"Yes, which means―"

We both fell silent as we peered from the Ri brothers to Trixie. Dwalin and I were bros who didn't say much. We could just read each other's minds half the time. That drove millions of girls into insane jealously, and to write fanfictions where Dwalin was a "rapist" or "bully." But we had stumbled upon the same conclusion: Nori had tried to trick me into thinking Trixie was a thief, so she could be banished. I was torn between patting Nori on the back and tossing him off the Carrock―wait, I was not supposed to be aware of the Carrock. The nerve of _him _to make petty attempts to deceive _muah_, King Under the Mountain. Nori holding Thranduil's manhood was starting to look better and better.

As I watched Nori, though, I _hated_ the sense of pride I felt. This Dwarf was undoubtedly loyal to his kin no matter what, even capable of defying Pearl Primrose. Damn Nori for making me feel wishy-washy. It was time to start being Big Bad Kraken, and to squash Kili and Fili's "hee-hees" and "ha-has" like a fucking boss. I left the rocky outcrop, thundering toward my nephews to bring the war hammer down.

_**Author's Note: **_Thank you for the anonymous reviews! I wish I could respond over PM. Also thanks to Borys68, Laora, and the awesome CeffylGwyn. I will be attempting to include the other dwarves of the company in this story, to encourage others that it's okay to play with them, too :) I usually notice people shy away from Nori because they don't know what to make of him, but that's the fun of it: he seems unpredictable, you know? So for this update, I will recommend _Anna Dressed in Blood _by Kendare Blake. It is YA horror; I repeat _horror_, about a ghost-busting dude named Cas, who moves to this new town to hunt down the infamous Anna Dressed in Blood ghost. It has a _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _feel for Buffy fans. I'm going to try to do a different YA genre from my last recommendation, which will probably be hard for me, but I'll try my best :) Now for song, I'm going with "Come on Eileen" by Dexys Midnight Runners. Kili would so like this song.

I hope you peeps review, follow, or favorite. Every time you review, a new Dwobbish will be born.


	3. Rule Number Two

_**Author's Note:**_ Thanks for the follows and favorites. Thanks Fangirlatyourservice, Libra Fire, CeffylGwyn, UKReader, swajesty, and the cool lathalea for the reviews. Let's make #swajesty happen lol.

_**Chapter Three: Rule Number Two**_

I couldn't believe it had taken me this long to figure out the ugly truth: Fili had _better _hair than muah. How did this happen? When had it happened? _I _was the one with the fairest hair of them all, not my nephew who used to sniff seats as a dwarfling after people had gotten done sitting in them. Disgusting.

Fili with his oh-so-special "blonde" hair, sat beside Kili, both of them next to the fire as I bitched them out. What dwarf had blonde hair? I leered at them for their stupidity and because Fili―fuck Fili.

"You know nothing of the world," I proclaimed with all my utter majesty, stomping away from the too small campsite. When you were as swajestic as muah, you needed a lot more room than _this _to spread your wings and be proclaimed the biggest badass of Middle-earth. The eagle king couldn't even touch me. He was jealous, too.

I stood near the edge of the rocky outcrop, peering at the blue-black sky, secretly smiling when I realized all the dwarves were admiring _my _hair. It softly blew in the breeze, reestablishing _muah _with the fairest hair of them all. Fili could take his "blonde" hair and join Thranduil―

Oh.

"Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs." It was Balin, putting me on blast in front of the company. Waiting for Pearl Primrose to delete ghetto American slang. Nope. The nerve of that old fart to talk about me when I was less than five-feet away, clearly in earshot to hear every single word.

I was appalled. Really, Balin? I thought you were my boy. Guess when you were Thorin Oakenshield, you never could trust anyone―even dwarves who looked to be around Thranduil's age.

Balin started to tell the story of _muah _in the battle of Moria. Fun fact: before that battle, I had a bad bout of diarrhea after Dwalin tricked me into eating some elf food. Just the thought of _their _food in my stomach, was enough for me to blow up both ways if you get what I'm saying. I'd been already cranky, so when Azog beheaded my grandfather's head, that fucker had just signed his death certificate. A part of my battle strategy had been to wait for orcs to come at me, and then to vomit all over them. Just saying that Azog was lucky I had already vomited on twenty other orcs. Because if I hadn't, he would've looked like a big bottle of milk with gooey yellow substance on him―that strangely resembled cheese. All right, I confess. It had been some type of elvish cheese. How could I resist cheese?

The company was deathly silent, their silence a bit overdramatic if you asked me. Hello, _I _was the one here, not Azog, the ugliest son of a bitch I'd ever seen. And let me tell you, I had seen some _ugly_, a face only a mother could love, dwarves around.

"That―that was my dad," Trixie sniveled, cozying up on Kili's shoulder. He scowled, looking seconds away from undertaking lessons from Uncle Thorin and throttling bitches who be invading your personal space.

Balin opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it, shaking his head. I think he had just determined this plot line of Azog's daughter falls in love with Thorin Oakenshield, was stupider than Mr. Baggins's gazillion Took cousins tagging along on the quest. Well, _Balin_, maybe you shouldn't have opened your mouth to tell the tragic story of King Under the Mountain. I was talking about _muah_, not Grandfather. Sure, I cried at night―wait, nope. Anyway, anyone with enough common sense knew _I _was the bigger tragedy. It was always me, always the victim.

"And I thought to myself then…there is one who I could follow…there is one I could call King," Balin said in wonder.

Damn straight. Time to turn around and electrify millions of women, men, children, dwarves, hobbits, dwobbits, and elves with one single look. I spun around, my eyes emotional, looking oh-so beautiful in the moonlight. This emotional artsy-fartsy stuff had to stop. I hardened my gaze. Back to being "cold" and "emotionless."

The dwarves were on their feet. No surprise there. I had a tendency to wow everyone I met; even the Kraken who I gutted after it stole _muah's _one-of-a-kind personality. Mr. Baggins, Gandalf, and the travesty were the only ones sitting. The hobbit asked Balin what happened to the pale orc. I was about to explain that it was dead and that I should've pissed on Azog's grave when I had the chance, but Trixie spoke first.

"YOU KILLED MY DAD!" she sobbed. Uh, I thought we had established this already. Eh?

She wiped tears off her sunken cheeks, blinking up at me. In one quick movement, Trixie climbed up to her hobbit feet, stomping toward me. I stumbled back. I had seen _that _look before. That had been the look Dis gave me when she found out she couldn't have the throne of Erebor for herself because she was a woman. It was dangerous, borderline insane.

Before I could react―because, we all knew muah had reflexes like a fox―Trixie shot her hand out. Her palm landed across my cheek, all the dwarves, Gandalf, and even Mr. Baggins inhaling a sharp breath as they watched Trixie slap me. What. The. Fuck. She had just broken rule number two of the Dreamboatshield Code: _never _strike Thorin Oakenshield.

"I HATE YOU!" she bellowed in my face. Was that new?

Fili awkwardly cleared his throat, looking mortified to even be speaking. He must've gotten orders from upstairs then.

"I told you, Uncle, she is _strong-willed_."

This was strong-willed? Strong-willed was I, not this Dwobbish freak! I didn't care that Fili didn't want to say that to me, I wanted to _wring _his neck. First, he took the throne away from me for "fairest hair of them all," and now he was defending this travesty over his Uncle. Pearl Primrose was putting us against each other.

Gloin grumbled, "I will not stand for this. Are we not going to do something? The lass just _struck _our King." Did I ever mention how sorry I was to have said Gloin spoke gibberish? Well, I was sorry now.

Dwalin blinked, voice uncharacteristically defeated. "There is nothing we can do. This is a _fanfiction_."

"Ah, but there is."

It was Gandalf, closing the distance between us, still smoking on that pipe weed. The old guy had _serious _issues.

"Well, what is it?" I growled, shaking in anger, barely able to contain the urge to punch Trixie right in the face.

"She will change the quest."

Dramatic pause.

"Not this again," Kili groaned, sending the tip of his boots careening against loose pebbles. He was scowling, clearly taking after King Under the Mountain. I could not be more proud, but Fili―

"They _never _change the quest!" Ori―wait, Ori?―out of all people, whined. I was tempted to give him a bro handshake for venturing out on his own, for saying what _he _wanted.

"I could not agree more." Gloin nodded, glaring with the utmost animosity at Trixie. Sorry, Balin, but Gloin just took your spot for the most coveted Thorin Oakenshield's Friends position. Don't be jealous, Balin. Try again next year. Wait, but you might be dead. Or killing off the dwarves of Moria because you're greedy. Wait, I was not supposed to know about _that_. Shouldn't have put me on blast, Balin.

"OH YEAH!" Trixie bellowed, jutting out her narrow hip, looking slightly deranged like her dear father. "I know what I'm supposed to change."

What? Your underwear? I can smell your stinky―never mind. I cast a quick glimpse at the hobbit, who seemed a little miffed that his question was interrupted. The temptation to run to Mr. Baggins and cuddle him like the cute rabbit he looked like was too strong.

Damn hobbit.

* * *

It turned out Trixie hadn't foreseen the deluge that had come down on us from above, like me bringing down the hammer. Point one for being useless. But then things became interesting―I was surprised since I was indirectly involved in this. Usually when things became interesting, I was the center of attention. Don't ask why. Just be jealous.

We were on our ponies, me looking majestic as we approached this torn apart home. Well, nothing good could have come of this. First thought: elves. I didn't know exactly how elves could have caused this, but I knew one did. I bet that elf―Thranduil's son, Leggy―had finally managed to produce a fart worthy of one dwarf the size of Ori, and this was the result: a home with its hinges blown off. Pathetic. Leggy wasn't man enough to handle a burp, let alone a _fart_. I bet all these ponies that Dis could out-fart him, actually _outman_ him any day, any time. My sister felt more like a brother. I was always glimpsing over my shoulder, scared to death that she was going to sneak up on me and slit my throat to take Erebor for herself. She was _that_ manly, and kind of evil. I liked to think her and Dain shared the "evil" genes. Not muah.

I ignored the temptation to flip my hair, and rub it in Fili's face that it was more luscious than his was, and to say, "Look at it and like it."

"We camp here for the night," I announced. I started making orders, shot calling.

I got off my pony using my swajesty. I saw Trixie struggling to get off her pony, her hobbit feet swinging about. I knew this was the moment where I was supposed to "help" her off the pony, despite her laying the smack down on my cheek. My eyes darted past her "petite" form, landing on the hobbit. That was the man _I _wanted to help, that was the man who I wanted to touch me at―nope. I gritted my teeth, stomping for the broken down home, being overly dramatic according to what Dis would have said. Well, you know what? Fuck her. Fuck my entire effed up family. They could kiss my delicious ass―

"We can make for the Hidden Valley."

Oh? It was Gandalf, coming at me like Bombur going at _my _block of cheese. It was mine. Don't start with me.

I growled, "I told you, I will not go near that place."

There must've been something seriously wrong with this old man, because he kept going and going. I think he didn't have enough pipe weed today or he didn't ruin enough people's lives. Either way, those were his hobbies. Maybe he wanted some coin from Mr. Baggins, too, not just dwarves. And then it hit me like a thunderbolt: what if Gandalf was Nori's crime lord? It wouldn't be too far-fetched. I had seen them sneaking away to have a "discussion" plenty of times. The nerve of them. Right under _muah's_ nose.

I puffed out my chest, prepared to give Gandalf the wrath of yours truly.

And then _she _interrupted us.

"Ugh, Thorin." Trixie twisted one of her strands of black hair, chewing on her tongue like some cow. "We need to get out of here. Gandalf's like, right."

I took a glimpse at Gandalf, catching a split-second sneer before his expression was back to the same old "offhand" look.

"She is correct," he stated a little too loudly for my liking.

"UGH, DUH!" Trixie stomped her foot. "That's why I'm here. Show some respect." No comment.

"Hold your tongue, lass."

For a second, I thought it was Mr. Baggins, come to be muah's knight in shining armor. Not that _I _needed or wanted one. Dwalin stepped out from behind a tangle of overgrown weeds, treading over pieces of rubble, leering dangerously at Trixie. He had that look on his face before he devoured a chicken or slaughtered orcs. Oh. I blinked. Shit was about to be going down.

"Excuse me?" Trixie put both hands on her narrow hips, one eyebrow shooting upwards.

Dwalin took several thunderous footsteps toward her, stopping once they stood almost face-to-face. "Do not make me repeat myself."

The air was tense, the same exact tension I could imagine between Thranduil and I if we were ever in the same room again. Hmm. What I wouldn't give for the opportunity to slice Twinkle Fairy's throat. Maybe even poison his wine. Both sounded like good plans. Grandfather would be proud.

Trixie's lips were quivering, her eyes darting frantically from Dwalin and me, as if expecting me to stand up for her. What? Sure, King Under the Mountain was going to defend your honor after you had slapped him and humiliated him in front of the company. Yep, that _sure _made sense.

Gandalf was open-mouthed, clutching his staff tighter. What old fart? Can't take the heat? You were the _one _who brought her along. Take her back with a no return investment. Please and thank you.

"AHHH!" Trixie suddenly screamed bloody murder, squeezing her eyes shut, clutching her fists while stomping like a wild animal. Eh? I think she was doing the Azog.

It was sad that her next move was predictable. Her right arm swung forward, palm outwards as she slapped Dwalin across the cheek. Oh. Mahal.

Dramatic silence.

Dwalin was in shock, looking ready to go in cardiac arrest. There was a tiny, red handprint on his cheek.

"Miss Oakenstruck!" Gandalf hissed harshly, eyes wild in rage. This was a new look for the wizard. Wait a sec. Why didn't anyone get _this _mad when muah had been slapped? I was the King, not Dwalin. My feelings were―nope, I was not going there.

Gandalf was about to step-forward, probably to offer Dwalin or the travesty a position working for him, since he was a crime lord and all. Wonder how they would feel about sharing the attention with Nori.

But before Gandalf could say anything, Dwalin squeezed his fist closed and I knew what was coming. Durin's beard, this was the greatest gift I'd gotten in seventy years. Dwalin snarled dangerously, giving a crazy outcry as his arm shot forward, fist cracking against Trixie's pig-like nose. She flew back, literally soaring through the air, hobbit feet wailing and arms flailing. Then her body crunched against what was once a doorway in the ruined house. Trixie slumped downwards, landing on her bottom with an audible _humph_.

She was wide-eyed, frightened, mouth ajar as she looked at Dwalin. Damn. I bet Pearl Primrose didn't plan for _that _to happen.

I resisted the urge to smile and run to Dwalin to hug him. Bros over hoes.

Dwalin pointed a gigantic finger at Trixie―hey, he had bigger fingers than yours truly.

"That was a warning, lass. Do not ever strike the King or me again," he spoke steadily, like he hadn't just punched Trixie Oakenstruck in the face.

Dwalin spun around, storming away, the glint of his axes catching in the sunlight.

And all I could think was that Gandalf had found his new criminal recruit: Dwalin. Now muah had to make sure Dwalin didn't become best friends with the kooky wizard and the redheaded step-child. Come on, it was no secret Nori was the ostracized Ri brother. That was not a low blow.

I thought things couldn't get any worse, but of course because I was a Durin and life hated me, they did.

_**Author's Note:**_ Will Trixie ever shut her mouth? Will this fic end with Thorin choking her with Bombur's braid? Can Pearl Primrose save Trixie from getting murdered? Sorry, guys, I couldn't resist :) Hope you liked the update. Honestly, I don't think it's that funny while writing it, but what the heck. If you have any ideas about wanting me to highlight any other dwarves, as in giving them a special moment to terrorize Trixie, go ahead and suggest. I was thinking about Oin using his ear trumpet to―never mind, no spoilers! I wanted to say that I don't think any of the dwarves would ever _hit _a woman, but this was meant as a joke, as in what the dwarves would probably want to do. I hope nobody thinks I'm promoting the idea of woman-beating.

So I am shamelessly going to promote my new fanfiction: "Heroes." Watch my character Rue dodge past the land mines of Thorin/OC tropes or face plant in them as she falls head-over-heels for King Under the Mountain. This fic is briefly set before the quest and is girl-falls-in-Middle-earth, but with a lot more drama and an author willing to change the quest. Hmm. Maybe Thorin won't die? Maybe he will? Maybe someone else will die? Click on it to check it out.

For this update, I will suggest you read _Gone _by Michael Grant. It is insane! There are flying uranium rods, killer mutant bugs, a plague that makes kids hack up their lungs, and _X-Men_-esque superpowers. It is about a town that ends up trapped in this dome and everybody fifteen-years and older disappears. It's been pitched as _Lord of the Flies _meets _X-Men_. As you can tell, I love this series. TV rights have been sold, too. I'm hoping _Gone _will end up on AMC if it's ever made. Crossing my fingers here. And now for song, I'm going with "House of the Rising Sun" by The Animals, used in the first chapter of "Heroes." This song is freaking awesome :) Please review, favorite, follow. I'm glad to hear from you peeps.


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